The Monochrome Spectrum: Infrared
by TerraChasma
Summary: Final part of The Monochrome Spectrum series. As Chase is about to learn, not all stories have a happy ending. Not even his.


**The Monochrome Spectrum: Infrared**

* * *

When the moment arrived, Chase was ready and waiting. He'd spent the last two years in breathless anticipation, poised for a point in time that had been written across the stars, glorified in the ink of a thousand blazing wishes. The gravel was biting into his knees, palms flat against the desert floor, but even as he fell, all his strength was poured into urging the life out of his body. Fire sent wreaths of exhilaration through him, pulling him out of himself, out of the darkness that had settled over him. Beyond the initial shock, he felt nothing but beauty. Finally, he was free.

The rocks that littered the ground where he lay had turned his body into a warzone, blood shaped into a warrior of eternity. It hurt, but the pain was fading fast, and it was becoming a struggle to hold on to anything but the rush of distant adrenaline.

Tiny, breathless whispers crept into his head, but he couldn't hear them, couldn't afford to let himself hear them. Compassion, grief, sorrow - each of those would be fatal to his death now. They would make him want to fight, arm him with reasons to stay alive, and this guilt, the constant bitter rage that lay behind its taunts, was a hard enough burden to bear as it was.

* * *

_"Chase! Bleezers, mate, you can't die on us too!"_

...But Dax, can't you see? It's you who's killing me. Killing me by keeping me alive...

* * *

_"No! Hold on, Chase. We're saving you, do you hear me? We're going to save you!"_

...Save me? Save me like you never saved Beyal? Is that what you mean?...

* * *

_"Oh...oh, Chase..."_

...Goodbye, B. I'll miss you, y'know. Please don't be too upset. This is what I have to do...

* * *

For no more than a second, all too long and lacerated with agony, their faces came into focus before him. Jinja, so angry, furious in her determination because it was the only way to hide her anguish. Bren, disbelieving, frozen into a charade of stricken horror. And Dax...Dax crying, tears washing the colours of a traitor from his cheeks and leaving nothing but youthful innocence in their wake. _Wrong_, his mind screamed out at him. _This is all so wrong. You're hurting them, Chase. It was hard enough for them to get over Beyal. This is going to break them beyond any semblance of repair. _

Then, mercifully, salvation washed over him as everything began to blur and shift; he was slipping, fading, falling, into the arms of greedy shadows, a darkness that craved to taste his pain. The sensation of skin on skin, a hand in his, lips against his forehead, gentle touches that crushed him beneath all the force of an entire war's worth of men. He was dying. This was everything he'd ever known and everything he'd lost, everything he needed and everything he'd never wanted to happen.

Using what little energy he had left, he focused all his attention onto clutching at Bren's hand, trying to signify all his goodbyes and apologies and tears into that single point of contact, giving all of himself away to the power of their histories.

There was still so much to be done, so many words destined to remain forever unspoken, so many people who deserved better than the legacy he was leaving them with. Jeredy...oh, God, his father would be heartbroken...his only son, the last link he held with Sophia, gone, just like that. Jinja, Dax, Bren, his best friends, a relationship that shrugged off any attempt to define it with something as petty as words. Alpha, his nemesis, the enemy he couldn't help but somehow love. Six, Lock, each one a part of him, quite literally built from his own foundations, entwined with both his genes and his heart.

"I-I'm sorry," he tried to force it out, but his lips rebelled, refused to form the shapes he wanted.

Frozen. Dying. He was dying.

And then, in an instant, he was dead.

* * *

"You have no need to be sorry, Chase,"

When the world returned once more, he opened his eyes to find himself somewhere else entirely. Solid tendrils carved from frail mists curled around his feet, the blood nowhere to be seen, the wounds he had once both hated and treasures now no more than livid scars.

Words gripped at his throat.

His heart writhed desperately, deep within his chest.

There was no sorrow left in his eyes, but his cheeks cried out for want of tears.

"Beyal?"

"Yes. It is me,"

He was incapable of movement, his throat rubbed raw with the effort of holding back his screams. Every breath wound itself around his neck and tightened there, a perverse strangulation of incredible willpower. Chase scrutinised Beyal's body for any sign of the injuries he had once borne, but there was nothing; the only pain he could see was that which weighted both his face and his eyes under the cover of midnight diamonds.

As though sensing the thoughts which lay behind his steady gaze, Beyal smiled slightly. "The physical marks of my death have long since faded. All that remain now are the emotional scars, but even they will lessen with time,"

Encased within a lifeless zombie body, he found himself being drawn closer to Beyal, hand reaching out to skim the monk's shoulder in a painstakingly gentle caress, fingers pressing against the soft fabric of his cloak. Underneath the folds he could feel solid flesh and bone, a confirmation that what he saw and felt and heard was real, no trick of the mind or hallucination drawn from all his dream-sketched fantasies.

Incredulous, he shook his head mutely, unable to find words to describe the torrential storms of his mind, the collision course set by the emotions running wild inside his head and pleading to be heard. The soft thread of tears was now woven through his lashes as he bit down on his lip, blocking out the images of those he'd left behind. This was his fate, his destiny; this was where he belonged. Here with Beyal.

Away from his friends. His family. The world he was made for.

But by the side of the one he loved.

How could anyone expect him to make that decision?

And yet...here he was. Confronted by the living ghost of his past, his future, of everything he'd ever stood for.

This was the right choice. It had to be.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Bey," he murmured hoarsely, wishing he could find the right words to describe what he was feeling. Everything about this felt wrong, leaving him tense and sick and out of place, almost as though his own body was rebelling against him; only his heart held a place within this misfits' mosaic, chaos and carnage, smoke and mirrors, a world apart from the realms of the living...a world that perhaps wasn't so very different after all.

Beyal's lips twitched into something too weak to show anything but pain. "I am sure I could hazard a guess,"

Lessening the pressure of his touch on Beyal's shoulder, he traced his fingers downwards to rest his palm flat against the monk's back, moving closer until only the most marginal of gaps remained between them. His voice took on a startling hint of tenderness as he let his chin settle on the top of Beyal's head, eyes closing of their own accord as he breathed in the heady scent of angels, brimstone and pure, unadulterated love. "Probably,"

And suddenly their lips were touching, hearts connected in silent hysteria, a few brief seconds of panic and the weight of a life they had transcended long ago crashing back down on them.

He had made his choice. Maybe there would never be a right or wrong answer, a decision that was inherently good or bad, but either way, he was here, and there was no turning back from this point at which he stood. He'd had no choice about the path his fate had taken, and so now all that he could do was stand back, hoping that maybe something beautiful should be derived from all this tragedy.

Vaguely, he felt Beyal slip an arm around him and pull him close, head leaning against Chase's chest. "I am sorry, Chase. Sorry for all you have been through thus far, and sorry for everything that is yet to come. Remember, everything I did, I did it for you, even if it may not seem that way. I would not have chosen to instigate any of this were it not necessary, and had the decision been mine to make, none of this would have happened in the first place,"

"Huh?" he pulled away slightly, confused by the note of guilt he heard within Beyal's words. "Bey, I don't get it. What do you mean, everything that is yet to come? Do you know something you aren't telling me?"

"No," he shook his head, but there was a definite hint of redness to his cheeks, and he refused to make eye contact. Chase's suspicion was slowly becoming aroused, apprehension stirring from a slumbering pool of confusion, with one eye open and waiting expectantly for the revelation that was sure to come.

Chase leaned in to kiss him softly. "Beyal, you know I hate it when you lie to me. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, but...I still cannot tell you," he said, face troubled, eyes bright with regret. "Please do not blame me for this. We were able to find each other again, if only for a little while, and that is better than complete separation, am I right?"

Something cold and dark began to creep into his veins. "What are you talking about? Bey, what's happening?"

"I...okay, I will try to explain. I never wanted you to die. I wished to be with you again, but not in this way. Not like this," he reached out to give Chase's hand a gentle squeeze, perhaps noting the confusion that was undoubtedly evident on his face. "When you die, your soul and the energy held within will, in most cases, be returned to the Earth. For some inexplicable reason, occasionally that energy is retained, leading to the afflicted being kept in a state known as 'immortal death'. When these immortal dead decide to break through the fabric of the supernatural into the world of mortals, we see the phenomena known as ghosts. Others, such as myself, choose to remain within the realm of the spirits. That is how I have been able to watch over you and guide you for all this time. Do you follow?"

When he spoke, his voice allowed none of the aching shivers trembling through his spine to be heard. "I think so. Carry on,"

"It was not your destiny to die today. If you had fought against death, you would still be alive, but you had no will to live. You did not wish to survive the accident, and that was not something even destiny could have predicted. You still have a role to fulfil on Earth, Chase. Dax, Bren and Jinja still need you with them. The Prophecy of the Five has allowed for my death, but not yours. You cannot die here,"

Silence.

Nausea corroded the walls of his stomach.

His hands began to shake again.

Liquid love shimmered at the corners of his eyes.

"Beyal...if you're suggesting what I think you are..."

"It is the only way. You must remain alive to fulfil the prophecy. I am one of the lucky ones. The energy that kept my body in a state of animation during my time on Earth has stayed with me, but I have no real need of it. The life of a wanderer, suspended between life and death, is a lonely one, and I cannot face seeing you suffer like this any longer, so my intentions are not entirely unselfish. You need this energy far more than I do. This way you can play your part in the Prophecy of the Five, and I can finally know the peace I have sought out for so long,"

Silence.

Only this time there was no nausea. No feeling whatsoever.

His muscles had gone slack.

The tears were spilling out across his whitening cheeks.

He tried to talk again, but found he couldn't form the words. Instead he simply let Beyal's voice wash over him, aching for the compassion and gentle familiarity he heard there before it had even fully left.

"Goodbye, Chase. This time forever. We will not meet again,"

Everything was fading, disintegrating into burning embers, and however tightly he held Beyal against him he could feel the monk was fading too. Warmth was spreading through him, not the harsh heat of ultraviolet but a soft, velvet sense of pervading infrared, a soothing antidote to the ice spreading through his body.

He tried so hard to hold onto the pain, because beyond hurt lay only a dull, empty nothingness, but even that was slowly slipping away from him.

The fog forming around his head rendered everything he saw indistinguishable; all he could be sure of anymore was that infectious warmth, and the fact that Beyal was gone. Irreversibly, irrevocably gone.

* * *

_"I told you that I pledged my life to you and your cause, Chase. You are far more valuable to the future of this planet than I could ever be. I have to let you go. Please, don't let this sacrifice be in vain. You must live and make the most of it, for your destiny is to save the world, and only through the energy in my soul will this now be possible. Goodbye forever, Chase Suno. I...I love you. I still love you, and I always will,"_

* * *

"Oh, Chase! We thought we'd lost you!"

"Bleezers, l'il Suno, don't do that to us again!"

"Ch-Chase? You're alive? You're okay?"

Warily, he forced himself to look. Jinja, Dax and Bren were crouched before him, concern streaking their faces, each one staring out from hollow, red-rimmed eyes.

Relief. That was there too.

Worry.

Anguish.

Fear.

And he couldn't even bring himself to feel better about the fact that they wouldn't have to cry for him, that at least they had escaped the horror and heartbreak at losing another of their closest friends.

He couldn't bring himself to feel anything.

Anything but pain.

Because, however much of a positive slant he tried to hide it behind, the truth still shone through in a starlight kaleidoscope of all the hurt Beyal had inadvertently dealt him, the ache in his bones and his heart and the torn lace shreds of his old, carefree self.

He was alone.

And Beyal wasn't coming back this time.

Two hearts became one.

One heart became broken.

One soul left for dead.

Alone and aching and shattered into tiny, tiny pieces, fragments of a love known and lost and carried away on a far-off evening wind.

Leaving Chase with only the darkness to contend.

The warm, soothing darkness, and the pain of infrared.

* * *

**Ahahaha and there you go guys, the end of The Monochrome Spectrum series. **

**I'm sorry.**

**No I'm not, this was awesome fun to write, I'm not sorry at all.**

**NOTE: I know that the cover's terrible. I literally just chose a random picture from my Image Manager. I'll make a proper one soon, when I have more time, I promise!**


End file.
